Turbocharged you refuse to stop at the sentry
Full speed ahead on the racetrack of manipulation
Safety belt suspending the breaks in free flight
Airbag punctured long ago in rapid disconnect
I put up traffic lights for you at so many T-junctions
Set boundaries and barriers on both sides of the road
Built bridges and roundabouts and paid traffic fines
But violations kept coming and you crossed the red line
Some say you are too young to have a driving licence
And recite chaos theory for your very own highway to hell
De-rooted yield signs lie broken next to strewn promises
Sweet child now it is time to gather your scrap heap alone
I won’t be drawn into further collusion and enablement
Must wave the chequered flag of surrender of abused trust
You will crash on and on until you take consequent charge
I will not rescue you any longer but secure my own lane
30th January 2020
Youngsters ,
how to wait
of young people
maturity,
if they were born
yesterday...?
restrained gestures,
calm,
silence?
If they are bodies
tensioned,
hunting traps
checked,
boxes of
resonance...
Wait for them to speak
any less,
shake less?
Whether they are amplifiers
street vendors,
are adrenaline
and steel,
volcanoes in
boiling...
barely even tired
beat them ...
They are sun and noise,
turbocharged machines,
are free ... yet
so we wish them
on our reins ...?
how are they children
of the world...
But that's how it is,
young people are so that ...
We can only ask
to God that they live
on the tracks of love
that we teach them
on the paths
that we conduct,
until they
children are
parents and so
understand
why our
concern...!
At the feet of lady liberty
In the shadow of her glory
The open ocean beacons
The pioneering spirit sets sail
From the bellow of the Titanic’s horn
From the majestic lion’s roar we’re born
Launched into outer space like a signal
Uninterrupted, this world could never hold our anchor
In her microscopic eyes lies a panoramic, telescopic view
In her universal heart a galaxy of knowledge
Of solar flares crimson as mars
Flowing in our genes of stars
A drum beat on the shore front
A desert storm warms her cold current
It is inhaled into the soul and exhaled
Music is composed from this mosaic
Our souls are fire and impossible to defuse
Burning with passion at their core
In our obsessed seven billion minds
To one hundred billion infinite dreams
On the shoulders of Armstrong
Apollo’s legacy stands strong
In the centre of the capital of the world
Painting the sky with an eye-opening dye
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